Letra Tell me who profits Souls Of Mischief

Tell me who profits

A-plus:

Hmmmmm
I could give a damn about you and your crew
Everybodys frontin
Aint nobody bein true to
The things they say
They say...

Tajai:
Man, I understand,

A-plus: and,

Phesto:
I got a plan for improvement. . .

A-plus:
But you gets the finger
And I bring a
Attitude with me
Cause brothas that I know be acting shifty
Let me be me
And Ill let you be you
But why talk about me if its not me that youre talkin to
Lets make it clear
You do not know, me
So skip how ya livin, how ya feel, bro g
To me thats phony
Asking if my shits dropping
The kids stop when
They start to get they lips popped, and
They say I forgot em
But I aint seen em in four years,

Tajai:
You always had my number,

A-plus: so step with your poor tears
And what about,

Opio: plus is my man!

A0plus: you need to stop it
Screw the doers
Of rumors
Cause you nerds never profit.

[chorus:]
Tell me who profits? you got beat, cause you like to gossip.

Phesto:

In school I never used to raise my hand in class
I always knew the teachers hand
A passing grade to me
In the back, relax
Cause they wasnt kickin facts
In facts
I never learned nuttin,

Opio:

I can fool with the school system
They take facts and twist em
Into knots, right up the blocks
A spot
To get a 40
Around the corner get craps,

Phesto:

Perhaps these is traps
To keep us tapped
Saps, can buy gats
With flat-tipped bullet caps
In the locker room with no hassle
And assholes sell cracks in sacks
To class-foes & friends
Cause the mass goes with the trend.

Opio:

My friend
The niggas makin ends is livin illegal
Thats the way to go
Im out to get dough.

Phesto:

Dough?
The education, to get you further
Than murder and drugs with thugs
Youre better off being a nerd.

Opio:

Thats absurd
Life dont mean nuthin without phat pockets
Thats the only way to get paid
You tell me who profits.

[chorus:]

O&p: tell me who profits?
O: Ill have gs,
P: but youll get shot, kid (dick)!

Tajai:

Huh!
Ya gotta wonder
Why niggas plunder, kill
Have ya torn a sunder
Cuz ima build
And fill
A glass pipe full of crack
And black mens pockets be phat
A little
Lets whittle the way to the core now
Ya packin a glock
Mackin the block
Fight with the cops
Well, who ya takin the risk for?
A kingpin swingin
With the president
Greasin em up & givin em papes
For drugs in the states
Have ya dodgin niggas and caps
Hes with george & clarence
Digging golf balls out of sand traps
Hes never seen frisco or oakland
He got a glimpse of new york
When he went to see the opera (ahhhhhh!
Hes seventy-six, getting senile
If we live past 2-4 were due for a stay in the penile
So see now, we polish our berettas
But theres no boats or caine fields nowhere in the ghetto
Yo...

[chorus:]
Tajai: tell me who profits?
Dc got schemes, and we aint got spit...damn.